


Must Love Dogs

by Shoulder_Devil



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Gen, It changes him, Martin takes over as head of the Institute, not for the better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 05:02:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14012742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shoulder_Devil/pseuds/Shoulder_Devil
Summary: Weeks had passed since the incident and Jon noticed subtle shifts in Martin’s behavior and appearance. His comfortable sweaters had given way to more professional business attire. Soon after, Martin’s soft but unruly curls had been cut and slicked down. His posture was improving as well, he carried himself with the gravatas of a much older man. Without prompting, more and more of the staff began to refer to him as Mr. Blackwood without any trace of irony.





	Must Love Dogs

Elias was not wrong about the beating heart at the center of the Magnus Institute. Too bad for him though, it turned out his heart didn't need the rest of him to survive. Thanks to a surprise allegiance, however temporary, with the Haans, Elias’s still beating heart now had a place of honor in Artefact Storage.  

Martin had been the one to complete the ritual and as such, taken his place as the new Institute head. Out of all of them, Martin seemed the best fit for the job. Jon already had his role as Archivist and was needed elsewhere in the ritual. Tim threatened to burn the place down rather than run it while Basira and Melanie hadn’t been tied to the Institute long enough for the transfer to work properly. So the burden fell to Martin. The Magnus Institute would live on, and so it seemed, would they.

Tim had made some kind of joke about Martin being “pure of heart” and Jon agreed with the sentiment. He hoped Martin would be able to tackle his new job with a compassion Elias had so clearly lacked. Maybe this rotten place could transform from a cold horde of information to something that used knowledge for the good of humanity under his leadership.

The Unknowing was still a threat, would always be a threat along with so many others. After the ritual’s completion that threat had been significantly diminished. Orsinov was livid, but the Institute’s gift had soothed the plastic demon’s rage to a degree. One of the dancers would gladly wear Elias, perhaps Orsinov her-- itself would take that honor. Jon tried not to dwell too long on how much of Elias was still in what they handed over to the circus. He tried and failed not to wonder exactly what degree the hollow shell of his former boss was capable of feeling and understanding the pain it would suffer. The part of Jon that was still human recoiled at the smile that split his face whenever those thoughts occurred. He was dimly aware he should be horrified at just how small a part of him it was. Instead, the Archivist found it didn’t actually bother him all that much. He caught himself smiling often these days.

Weeks had passed since the incident and Jon noticed subtle shifts in Martin’s behavior and appearance. His comfortable sweaters had given way to more professional business attire. Soon after, Martin’s soft but unruly curls had been cut and slicked down. His posture was improving as well, he carried himself with the gravitas of a much older man. Without prompting, more and more of the staff began to refer to him as Mr. Blackwood without any trace of irony.

Jon supposed all of these changes were inevitable. As head of the Institute he was expected to put on a professional face. A kinder, gentler Magnus Institute could not happen overnight, not if it expected to survive. The Lukas’ and Fairchilds were not exactly pleased with the sudden regime change but seemed to accept it after their meeting. The Archivist breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Martin, no, Mr. Blackwood escort the two powerful men to the exit after they finished their business. It wasn’t exactly smiles all around but there seemed to be no overt animosity.

Martin spotted Jon watching the exchange and walked over to him. The click of his shoes on the marble floor reminded him briefly of Elias before Jon shook the thought away.

“Jon, I’m sorry I haven’t been down to the Archives much recently. There’s been so much to do and…” He grinned a bit sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck before catching and composing himself.

“It’s fine. I know you have taken on more than your fair share of responsibilities with very little warning.” Jon nodded to the door through which Fairchild and Lukas recently departed. “That seemed to go well.”

“Yeah-- I mean, yes. They weren’t happy, although I don’t think it is possible for either of them to be truly happy, but they won’t oppose us. I showed them Artefact Storage and that seemed to smooth things over. It’s actually rather soothing to watch, his heart.”

“Now that you mention it, I suppose it is.” Jon agreed. In his mind’s eye he saw the strong, wet organ suspended in midair, beating rhythmically; the pulse filling his ears with its steady cadence. He felt himself carried away on sanguine rivers that flowed their way through every part of the Institute, nourishing it. Feeding him, feeding all of them.

“Jon?” Martin’s voice pulled the Archivist from his reverie.

“Sorry,” Jon blinked, “I’m not sure what came over me just then.”

“It’s fine, sort of expected really.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Martin waved it away with an elegant gesture of his hand. “I was asking if you would like to go to lunch? Catch up on things a bit?”

Jon smiled. “Yes, Martin, I’d like that.”

 

* * *

 

Jon, or perhaps the Archivist, watched the people as they passed by. Separating himself from what he thought of as ‘the Archivist’ was becoming less and less possible, another thing that should worry Jon but he couldn't manage the energy to actually care. He noted that the crowded sidewalks did not hinder their travel as the pedestrians parted before Mr. Blackwood, almost as a reflex. An excited dog out for a walk, mostly Labrador by the looks of it, spotted them. Despite the leash it seemed to be far more in control than the person walking it. For a moment Jon thought it was ready to bound up to the two of them and say hello. Then it saw Martin and immediately cowed, tucking in tightly next to its owner, tail between its legs. They walked past without Martin even acknowledging the dog’s presence.

_Now that is odd._

Martin lead them down the road several blocks to an upscale cafe where they were sat outdoors facing a park. They placed their orders and sat in comfortable silence for a bit watching the people enjoying a rare sunny afternoon.

A man in a t-shirt and jeans was playing fetch with a floppy eared mutt. The wind must have taken the ball off course as it landed near the low wall dividing the cafe from the park. The brindle dog loped over toward the ball but stopped when she caught sight of them. Her hackles raised and a low growl came through bared teeth. Jon felt the adrenaline hit his system as he looked between Martin and the aggressive animal not far from them. Martin, for his part, remained cool and composed, regarding the snarling beast as if it bored him.

There was something very wrong here. The air seemed heavy and Jon struggled for breath. No one else in the cafe seemed to notice the conflict happening beside them, even the dog’s owner was oblivious, simply calling for Duchess to grab the ball and bring it back while not exactly looking in their direction. The Archivist pushed away his fear as he watched the moment stretch before him.

Mr. Blackwood twitched his hand, two fingers extended, in a dismissive gesture. “Go on then,” he commanded. Duchess yelped as if she’d been kicked and took off back to her owner, ball forgotten.

“Martin,” Jon began when the moment was broken, “what was that?”

“Hm? Oh, don’t worry about it Jon.” He shook his head, brushing off Jon’s concern

“Don’t worry about it? That was the second dog today I’ve seen react negatively to you.” Jon leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. “That doesn’t bother you in the slightest?”

“Should it?" he said, eyebrows raising in surprise. "I haven’t been attacked, if that’s what is worrying you.”

Jon was becoming more animated. “You love dogs! I saw you nearly get hit by a cab when you ran across the street once to pet a particularly fluffy one that caught your eye.”

“Really?” He shrugged. “I guess I don’t find them all that interesting anymore.”

Jon looked aghast. “But--”

“We grow older and our tastes change. It’s really nothing to get worked up over.”

A pained look crossed his face as Jon shook his head in disbelief. “You genuinely have changed, haven’t you, Martin?”

“Really, Archivist," he sighed, looking almost disappointed, "this place changes us all. I would have thought you would have realized that by now.” 

“Yes, but, Martin--”

“And Jonathan? I would prefer it if you would refer to me as Mr. Blackwood from now on. I think it fitting, given my new role at the Institute." He paused, fixing the Archivist with the full weight of his gaze. "Wouldn’t you agree?”

Jon swallowed down the bile threatening to rise in his throat before nodding. “Of course,” he hesitated, “Mr. Blackwood.”

“Excellent.” He flashed a friendly smile that didn't manage to reach his eyes, showed too many teeth, and reminded Jon far too much of Elias Bouchard.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Martin loves dogs. The Institute changes people, warps them to its needs. Martin loved dogs.
> 
> This is your fault, Flammen.


End file.
